


Hairpin Lockpick

by cracktheglasses (cormallen)



Series: Short Prompt Fic! [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6081621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cormallen/pseuds/cracktheglasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another prompt drabble from the Reylo chat, for the prompt "Kylo/Rey, hairpin lockpick".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hairpin Lockpick

The Force-dampening cuffs must feel impossibly heavy around the bones of her wrists. He remembers the first time they’d pushed his hands into them, the way he railed and thrashed and struggled, trying to reconcile himself to their smothering press, the sudden alien emptiness inside his chest. A deep black void within his skull where moments ago there had been words, there had been breath, there had been light. Even now, he can barely stand to touch them, even for the brief time it takes him to put them on her; it’s like putting his hands on a corpse. Kylo’s heart is jumping anxiously against the cage of his ribs, but it must be done; she must learn what it feels like, to have each one of her senses taken away if she hopes to be strong enough to make it through.

He runs his fingers through her loosened hair once he has snapped the cuffs shut, and she tenses at the touch, releases a sharp hissing breath.

He stands, reluctant to leave her on the floor of the cell, but she bares her teeth up at him, defiant.

“You know, I could be out of these in less than a minute,” Rey snaps, and he nods. 

“Yes, I do know. It’s why I took the pins out of your hair.” He wants to tell her that she shouldn’t be afraid, that she is strong, that he won’t be far, but two of those things she knows already, and the last is of no comfort. 

“I will return in a standard hour,” he tells her instead, rolling the little metal pins inside his palm. He isn’t actually certain she could have used them to open the cuffs; they lock almost seamlessly, but if anyone could have done it, it’s probably her. Letting her have the chance would defeat the purpose.

“I don’t rely on the Force to do everything for me, like you do,” she grits out as he turns to go. 

“It’ll be a very easy hour, then,” he says, and shuts the door. 

The second pair of cuffs waits for him by the cell camera feed monitor. He sighs, settling down into the chair, and picks them up, feels his stomach sinking at the impending hollow blankness. He fixes his eyes on her face on the screen, resolved, and snaps the cuffs shut.


End file.
